Lotte's seen a ghoul
by Fry-dei-luv
Summary: An account of life in a ghoul-infested Tokyo from both sides, this story sees it's protagonist trying to maintain both her health and sanity in a hostile environment. All the while she undergoes a drastic change that threatens to leave her disfigured and very much dead.
1. Docile neighborhood

A/N In this story, protagonist' viewpoint shifts between my female OC and Uta's, though exact nature of their relation is still very much subject of internal debate. The genre is horror, mystery and slice of life, trigger warning for gore and body horror in later chapters, as well as probably MA-rated heavy sexual stuff much later. With this I wanted to examine how one would fare living in a ghoul infested Tokyo while hailing from different culture and also different _kin_ than most of Tokyo citizens, human or ghoul alike. The zodiac excerpt comes from Elle's Love Chart Horoscope and is most certainly subject of copyright, violating which was not the author's intention. Also, no copyright infringement for Mr. Ishida was intended.

Nocturnal sky was quite starry tonight_._

Lotte's neck has been aching from raising her head for some time now. It was inevitable yet the sensation was rather unpleasant. It was more than rewarded though, for the event of seeing so many stars on Japan capital's city was a delighting one. Music oozing through her headphones, the girl happily let a small cloud form with each released breath. Waiting for the train was surely bothersome, but there was no omitting this. If she wanted to reach the relative safety of _home, _she had to leave 20th ward and reach Shinjuku, and fast. Pity it involved such vast distance to cross. Perhaps living in much smaller cities in preceding years has made her unprepared to face the perks that came with living in the city the size of Tokyo.

But there were also concerns of different nature. Namely recent increase in ghoul attacks all over Tokyo's special wards. Under all circumstances that was a scary thing to consider. Ghouls hadn't been unknown in other parts of the world, especially Germany housed a surprisingly vast amount of their species. But in places like Britain, France or USA they laid low,assuming the existence of scavengers of sorts rather than that of active hunters. _Well, the USA were special case altogether_, Lotte thought with a wry smile.

There were also upsides of living in 4th ward, she thought. Like Yoyogi park or Yoyogi residential area as a whole. The parks and sense of calmness they brought her in first tumultuous months of her forced stay here. Or red light district of Kabukicho.

Always a good place to _prey_.

That brought her to less pleasant ruminations. Namely, the hunger that none of the copious amounts of food she ate daily could assuage. And the fever. Fever was the worst. Fogging her mind, numbing the senses and rendering her vulnerable all at once, fever was the biggest drawback of her current state and also the reason she was transferred to Tokyo from East St. Louis, IL. _He _very emphatically stated that this particularly delicate state about to unravel was best not experienced „at home". It was ironic, considering they changed homes on a monthly basis. Or even more frequently.

Wondering which home he meant was pointless, that much was evident. Figuring out how to manage her decreasing health level in entirely alien environment was that much bigger concern. Though early December weather hasn't warranted it yet, Lotte made it a habit to wear heavy parka at all times, complete with a beanie and all the wintry accessories that could conceal and at the same time somewhat alleviate her rapidly worsening condition.

But! Those tenebrous thoughts certainly wouldn't help her, now would they? _Most certainly not_ she thought, smartening up her jacket and making sure her voluminous scarf was securely wrapped around her, concealing the lower half of her face as well. Sparing a cursory glance around her, she noted that wearing surgical masks was a fad many city residents took kindly to. That was favourable, in light of, well, _everything_. Making a mental note to buy one for herself, Lotte braced herself for incoming train, signalled appropriately earlier. The line crossing the Shinjuku station was always crowded, though the later the hour, the less people would be generally found even in subway. And that also was very beneficial for someone like her. And perhaps that _other guy_.

Lotte let out a deep breath. Now that was something she found herself increasingly waiting for. Though feeling more disconnected from her surroundings with each passing week lately, she was still able to gather her thoughts and concentrate for relatively short time that it took for the train to cover the distance between Shinjuku Station towards Yoyogi. _She just couldn't pass opportunity to ogle l__i__ke this_, she thought hotly. It wasn't like she was ogling _him_ per se, though. Rather, stole few glances from time to time.

It wasn't like there was much to stare anyway. If she took to concealing her face as a means of battling the internal war her system waged on itself, he just seemed to follow some style pattern of his, making it hard to even get a good look at his face, since his eyes were at all times hidden behind black glasses, even at night. Such was Tokyo, people could look super crazy and no one gave a damn. S_eriously though, all the time_, Lotte found herself grumbling, as it turned out, aloud, drawing some unwanted attraction complete with raised brows from few bleary-eyed salarymen in close vicinity.

Her cheeks were still a little rosy when she managed to find a vacant seat in the relatively empty compartment near the end. Opening a copy of Tokyo Baedeker and resigning herself to dreary task of memorizing the rough outline of her new city and its main hallmarks, she hasn't looked up until the sounds of ever busy Shinjuku Station roused her from her focused state. Realizing that the music stopped playing somewhere between the stations, she tried to fish her mp3 player from the oversized bag she had to haul with herself all the time because of the amount of hefty textbooks required at her university courses. Finally finding what she looked for and settling on swamp folk centered playlist for a change, befitting the nocturnal and rainy atmosphere outside (_because it had to rain now, hadn't it?_), she managed to get a better look at people who took seats nearby just now.

_He wasn't there_, she thought at first. And it was damn good that he wasn't, because a coughing fit that was waiting to happen whole damn day just chose to manifest itself, in all its wet and painful glory. Right now her want for own personal surgical mask became an urgent need as people stared at her disapprovingly, though their attention never became outright rude. That was a welcome change from western habits, for once.

She was still recovering from it even after she left her designed station, and as her wobbly legs took her along well memorized path toward the cluster of, as far as she knew uninhabited, industrial buildings in less glamourous area of Yoyogi, the awareness that there was _someone else_ nearby became suddenly aggravating.

It wasn't as much the sound that person made. Rather, some kind of predatory aura, inherent to their_ very nature_. Something that made her suddenly timorous. But also weirdly titillated at the same time. _A ghoul, finally?._ It was perhaps a testament to her earlier days, when scent of danger carried also the inevitable pleasure of full stomach and calmness of mind that came with it. Resisting the urge to just outright turn around and pounce on whoever was following her, she tried to calm her erratic heartbeat, its constant pitter-patter against her ribcage mostly annoying, but also deconcentrating as hell. _What the fuck_ she found herself thinking, involuntarily sneaking a brief glance behind her, noticing _nothing_ in immediate vicinity. There was _no one_. Or rather whoever happened to walk behind her _with this crazy aura _just turned around the corner or somehow simply vanished. The rhythmic tapping of a shoes against concrete pavement slowed down and finnally ceased altogether, as the girl finally stopped and turned around fully, taking in the whole surrounding area.

She was definitely smelling something, a faint, coppery residue of aroma that was no longer present. Recognizing what was that she smelled, she became suddenly and painfully aware of her own condition and promptly decided to head back home, prepared for a sudden attack but also not wishing to engage _anyone_ , should their intentions weren't outright hostile. After all, she knew better. She was in no shape to engage in a fight. Her condition worsened by a prolonged affliction, her skills also became somewhat rusty. And above all, it wasn't as if she was a p_ro fighter_, anyway.

Just took a couple of lessons.

So she scurried away like a fearful mouse she has become, and stopped only when, covering a couple of flights of stairs, she found herself at_ home_. Leaning against concrete pillar, Lotte tried to steady her breathing, while at the same _very painfully_ aware that her malady reduced her to a fearful mess. Letting out a ragged breath, her eyes fell on her dog, up until now silent and watching her through half-unseeing eyes. What a peculiar sight in the space otherwise barren. A towering presence and at the same time balding and lacking a few teeth, she definitely wasn't the most beautiful of dogs, period. But she was loyal. And quite deadly, if she was asked to. Right now however, she was in dire need of a _walk_.

Sliding to the floor with a defeated sigh, Lotte tried to untangle her scarf with quivering hands, the tips of her fingers unbearably cold and suddenly uncooperative. _Just what happened?_ was a thought that formed itself in some far corner of her mind and gradually gained strength, arousing even more questions than answers, as Lotte racked her brain, trying to understand _how come a simple presence _ _could _ _induce such terror in me that instead of blood, iron flowed through my veins__?. _Finally disentangled from convoluted mess of material and a bit calmer, the girl begun to strip from the rest of her clothes, stopping only at flimsy excuse of underwear. Her body temperature lowered, the girl calmed considerably. Whatever caused such reaction in her wasn't around anymore. Her senses, though dulled by impending collapse of her well-being, were still working on higher level than your average Joe. Nothing nasty lurked around, that much she could wager. Not that the presence was outright hostile, just - formidable? This seemed just the right word. It was the same feeling she got when she faced her maker in mock fights he liked to schedule from time to time. A feeling that there was no screwing around with this one.

There was no time to sulk, anyway. There waited a comfy pair of sweatpants to wear, sneakers to slip into and a dog to walk. She was feeling composed again, now that her head cooled off a bit. Grabbing her dog's leash and realizing that the keys were still probably in the door lock, she headed into the dark corridor just outside her living quarters, headphones on and only soft padding of her shoes discernible to anyone who might've cared to listen.

* * *

><p>The air outside was unforgiving, changing from pleasantly chilly to bitingly cold in just a few moments she spent at her apartment, and as she made her way through small park located near the building, Lotte felt her teeth positively clatter. Chilly atmosphere quickly made her hungry and lusting for something, anything really, to eat. And that made her moody again. And tha t<em>vibe<em> all over the place. Perhaps it was thanks to some shorts by Waita Uziga she had been flicking through on her tablet earlier that day between her lectures, ones _that still gave her chills_, or maybe just the general emptiness of streets around her, lending them an otherworldly charm but also rousing her awareness – no matter the reason, Lotte's strained her head for an extra effort of minding her surroundings for the duration of the walk, instead of the usual daydreaming. One couldn't forget about the ghouls either. Fourth ward, with its proximity to the first one, remained a safe, even _docile_, one. Still, incidents happened. Like that one from the last month. The rumour, whispered to her by a friendly shopkeeper over some fresh cabbage case on the vegetable stall, had it that the body of a janitor from a school nearby has been found on its premises, torn and shredded to pieces, quite literally at that. Local authorities suspected some passing stray ghoul, venturing outside his or her own turf. Still, the thought of such menace happening in one of the safest wards was unnerving, especially since the alleged ghoul hunted on school premises. Naturally, concerns about schoolchildren arose and the local Board of Education has been literally flooded with complaints by concerned parents, questioning the ability of officials to effectively deal with a _ghoul problem_. The vegetable peddler, whose wrinkled face made it hard to make out the outline of her eyes, seemed to be more excited than genuinely scared, happy to be able to pass on this piece of juicy story with all its gory details and in some twisted way bond over it with her new client. And as she made her way back towards home on that day, armed with bags of fresh produce and knowledge about recent morbid happenings in the ward, Lotte remembered feeling rather jittery herself. After all, back then ghouls meant everything but scary to her and it seemed almost laughable to her now that passing of a mere _month_ would leave her so vulnerable and exposed as to ponder _calling them for help_.

It was so ridiculous she actually laughed, a short and dry sound, more morbid than happy. The sound, eerily loud in a deserted strip of the backstreet they were walking on made Berg actually stop in her tracks and stare at her owner as if she was something very nasty. Hastening to go all the way back and eager for some noodles and maybe even a movie to watch, Lotte turned on her heel and made a beeline for home. It was eerily silent and even more deserted than the streets around it, the only other neighbouring constructions in twin state of decay, seemingly unoccupied. Pushing the heavy doors open and once again forgoing any attempts at lighting the huge lamps left after previous establishment, a factory of sorts, she entered a vast space of concrete wasteland. Littered with rubble and debris of various sort, it showed that absolutely no attempts at making it habitable besides rudimentary has been made. First two floors were just like that, empty sans few sculptures scattered in random places and ostensibly neglected. An odd rug or two complemented the image of a job undone. The girl kept walking up the stairs, paying neither the artworks nor the displaced Persian rugs any mind. On the end of second flight of stairs, a new pair of doors has been erected, its solid structure betraying its main function. The dark corridor behind them led to the only place that was somewhat furnished, and besides the comfy rooftop, the only one ever used. Separated by shoji screens, a _native touch_ as the Blonde guy remarked upon helping her move here, the living area was sparse to say the least. True to latest and irritating spartan design fad, nothing besides few choice _modern_ chairs, a huge couch and a TV set has been left here. Huge canvases lined the walls, painted in seemingly nothing but single colours, varying only in terms of facture, looking as if the painters themselves couldn't decide whether to channel all those rothkos or newmans, or perhaps in some cases Alberto Burri himself.

Treading in random patterns in order to find the best place to sleep, Berg left dirty imprints of her paws on choice oriental rug that was a present from her fair-haired colleague, much to discreet appreciation of the recipient herself. Perhaps such passive-aggressive behaviour could be, and should be, considered childish, rude even, but Lotte couldn't bring herself to care that much. The rug was beautiful in its own ay, that was true. But the amount of pain she endured on hands of its giver effectively robbed it of all potential charm and importance that it could have hold in her eyes. So ever since the blonde one left Tokyo and a hefty paycheck has been sent from the Central as a sweetener for her _loneliness_, Lotte has done everything she could to make this place more to her liking. But there was only so much she could do if she wanted to lay low and not draw much unwanted attention to her independent wealth, unordinary for a undergrad student like her with no parents and believable back history at all.

The only things that was overflowing here were the book lined shelves in her studio, the construction made entirely of glass, erected on a rooftop upon a special request from her, to which Leonard had no choice but to comply. This was place where she opted to spend most of her time, reading or just chilling, smoking weed and entertaining the few acquaintances she managed to make. You didn't make friends in Japan without serious work and it wasn't like her impending condition warranted a need for those. Still, she tried and was pretty happy when some girls her age decided to take some hesitant steps toward befriending her. It surely kept loneliness at bay, especially on those days when she was so sick of it that even curling up in a hammock with huge lump of a dog weighing them down that Berg was, wasn't enough and she even entertained a wicked perspective of actually calling _Leonard of all people_. On most days the hammock did its job, though.

Even now, as she kicked off her shoes and moved to change into some comfortable home wear, her steps took her straight onto the rooftop. It wasn't perhaps too late for some additional reading for tomorrow's seminar.

* * *

><p>The walls of the alleyway were covered with grime. Half torn leaflets littering the ground and sun bleached posters advertised things long gone. Night attracted all kinds of dubious characters, and it didn't help that his studio happened to be located in Kabukicho, a home to all kinds of establishments catering to all known fetishes and then some. Crowds were always starting to form by the time he closed his shop and on every other occasion Uta would be very well inclined to omit them in favour of some quieter route to get home, one less teeming with <em>humans<em>. But as it happened, when Kabukicho was concerned, most of these people weren't exactly keen on being seen themselves, so eye contact and scrutinizing anything or anyone was simply not how things were done here. In a way, those mobbed streets offered privacy far greater than any quieter detour he might have chosen. It served his purpose of moving around as unnoticed as possible quite well. Its lonelier and darker streets were also an excellent place to stalk one's prey when it came to feeding. The high rate of crime associated with those regions made it easier altogether to snag some man pining after lonely woman on the street a tad bit too oppressively, and devour his finest parts in some quiet corner where nobody could see him. It_ was convenient_.

Currently, however, Uta was fully satiated. With swift way back home in his mind he effortlessly navigated through crowds. All those hollow faced men - vaguely embarrassed for craving something as natural as physical gratification they couldn't get any other way - made him eye them with a mixture of pity and slight disgust. Ghouls were much less apologetic when it came to mating and such things as repressed guilt from their trysts were a rarity. _That didn't mean they were unheard of_ he thought and immediately choose to cut his musings short as they began to take him to places he'd rather not visit tonight. Or never, as it was.

And it was a beautiful night, that was sure. Not a cloud on the unusually clear sky, with multitude stars strewn all over it. The drawbacks of December's chilly weather fell short on the male ghoul, as his hardened skin wasn't prone to biting gusts of cold air. The only reason he wore weather appropriate clothes was to blend in, and also to conceal his appearance as much as possible, starting with the tattoos. Adjusting his scarf, his eyes fell back on the pavement, taking him through well known streets, all the way to the metro station. It was half past ten, not his usual hour of coming back home. Tonight he chose to work on his newest design a bit longer instead of taking it home. An extra effort certainly paid off and now finished design rested in its case, ready for tomorrow.

It was a casual stroll from the metro station back home, headphones on his ears and mind wandering in all places that held some interest for him. He was supposed to meet with Yomo at Itori's tomorrow night, just a casual night of socializing with friends. A mask to make till the end of the week, and for his first human customer to come to his shop in a long time at that.

An unruly ghoul to find and eliminate, _finally_.

Come to think of it, there was something in the air that made him consider that particular task, to think about it _right now_. A lingering scent, the trace of which his keen senses picked up on the last lane leading to a pathway that wounded through the decrepit industrial buildings where his apartment was located. It was not that puzzling why he would find this particular scent here. After all, the cluster of buildings he occupied was rather uninhabited one. Excluding the woman living opposite him, there was no one who lived there. People of all sorts frequented them, though. The other buildings didn't have sturdy locks on their doors and therefore seen many rebellious teenagers doing all kinds of teenage stuff, ones he didn't have patience to even roll his eyes at, much less to react to in any way.

A perfect place to stage a murder. Or rather, _a dinner_.

The events of last month hasn't escaped his notice. No ghoul in their ward would do something like that. Sure, the area was hard to live in, by some standards uninhabitable nowadays. It has certainly changed ever since his days as a peacemaker. But the change meant something entirely different for humans and ghouls altogether. While becoming supposedly _safer_ for humans, it shrinked ghoul's feeding possibilities dramatically, reducing them to cannibalism even. All the stranger that there was someone, anyone, who dared to step on the turf, the situation strained as it was, and kill a janitor, on school's ground of any places. It was unthinkable and the consequences would be dire, for now the CCG's eyes were squarely trained on their ward and had the usually dormant 4 Ward's Branch Office scrambling for outside support. If continued, the fragile balance enabled by continued effort of more level-head ghouls of the region would be broken and it would be more than certain that some head would fly in the process.

And as tempting as this prospect looked, right now that simply wouldn't do.

It took him admittedly some time to locate the culprit, especially since he wasn't a peacemaker now and simply didn't have any resources to spare besides his own on this one. But he would be able to pinpoint the location of its newest kill with relative ease, especially after today's confirmation. Repeated incidents where he was able to literally sniff the other's way through the neighbourhood would assure him of that. All that was left was to lie and wait, and he was quite good at that. And as soon as the scent will appear again, he would strike, efficiently and with no droplet of blood left afterwards.

That is, only if his sickly neighbour won't make any unwanted appearance.

Snapping her neck would be just a _waste_.

He finally approached his doors, his heavy military boots scrunching on the pretty pebbles the small backyard was strewn with ever since she moved in. The guy she came with back then certainly spared no effort to make her feel at home, arranging a freaking landscaping company to accommodate the scenery to her liking. Pity he didn't know that the building next to her was, in fact, inhabited, and by a _ghoul_ no less. Maybe he wouldn't leave then.

_ But what difference would that make, if he had it in him to make her his new meal?_.

He would hope she won't cross his way tomorrow, that was for sure.

* * *

><p><em>A<em>_ries + _ _S__agittarius_

„_Chemistry and simpatico build fast between these two Fire signs, and you find a twin soul in each other. You're both independent explorers, driven by lust, joie de vivre and a breathtaking moxie that others mistake for arrogance. That brio and derring-do is the badge of your spiritual kinship—a primal mating call that draws you together. You share a blunt sense of humour, and naturally understand the other's need for space and autonomy (at least at first). Thrilling conversations traipse expansive terrain: philosophy, art, human nature, science, spirituality, dreams. Together, the impossible feels probable, and your natural confidence soars higher. Caution: the view from your rosy lenses can be a bit myopic. Sagittarius is a gambler and Aries is a charging knight—neither thinks far ahead. You'll need crash insurance for the times that your grand schemes don't reach your projections. At moments, you both lapse into overthinking, which can kill the celebratory vibe. Aries also has a greater need to for coddling and personal attention. At times, the Ram may resent competing with Sagittarius' busy career, social schedule and hobbies—and Sagittarius gets impatient with Aries' needy spells. When angered, your burning tempers can raze a national forest to ash. Be careful not to unleash a spiteful spark, for that's all it takes to destroy this treasured landscape."_

That would be it for her independent studies. The book on Hegel pushed into far corner of her hammock, Lotte changed her position to take some strain from her back. Lazily sifting through the glossy that laid on the floor, her features comically puffed from reading it from above, she couldn't imagine something stupider than horoscopes to read. However being the one to lose concentration sooner than later, she found it necessary to shift her attention elsewhere from time to time. And now she was feeling drowsy. It was perhaps a time to sleep, eleven in the evening now a normal hour for her to hit the bed.

Tomorrow she would stay later and study, for sure.


	2. Time frozen between them

A/N Reminder – this fic is NSFW for a reason, if not in this part then it will become quite evident in the others. Also, I believe it is important to convey my stance regarding TG ending in latest 143 chapter. While it is perhaps best to do so in a lengthy essay, at least some aspects need to be touched down here. It is SPOILER heavy so read it at your own risk. First and foremost, since it kinda fits with what I already had in my mind, evil or at least heavily morally ambiguous aspect of Uta's personality will be featured eventually in here. It is quite sad because even if it always seemed like a stretch to think _anybody_ in the world of ghouls could be anything short of semi-good (besides Kaneki, but He is dead unfortunately), it would be him. True to his alias however, he seems to possess many faces and at the same place not one which seems truly his. This is an aspect no author should take lightly. In fact, I'm thinking about starting another piece of fiction where a protagonist a tad bit different than Lotte could encounter this newUta in a way his dual nature could really shine. Anyway, even if kind and gentle ghoul boyfriend would be something any girl would like (I would), we will have to deal with much more nasty Uta from now on. A pity, I really liked his gentle side, made him all the more sexy when you knew what those hands were capable to inflict. That being said, I don't think I will go as far to portray the true extent of what Ishida suggested about Uta's personality (maybe in that newer fic). I simply do not have skills to write truly evil characters, maybe I'm that much naive or simple not that good of a writer?. So - a mix of those two viewpoints, two faces painted on his mask. One last thing – this part takes place a few years behind TG, Clowns probably haven't disbanded _yet._ No sign of Kanou as of then also. If a sequel would ever be posted, it will omit the time slot that TG has been happening in and will jump right where chapter 143 ended. But who knows, maybe Uta will eat Lotte before she will warrant herself a sequel? _Only time will tell._

* * *

><p>„Tonight, I dreamed about Patrick Bateman from <em>American Psycho<em> eating out my pussy"

That would be Michiru for you. Acting as if she just casually hinted at the pleasant weather outside, the girl assumed eating her chicken on a stick to the astonishment of her giggling friends gathered around the table, their textbooks and food strewn all over it. The weather was indeed beautiful, mused Lotte, sunny and dry, no threat of snow yet. Even the tables at the university's cafeteria have been pulled into the courtyard, something that usually didn't happen well until April or May even.

„You know, for a second thought, I kinda wished he did me, too" remarked Misaki dreamily, her chin resting on a particularly thick volume whose title read with bold white lettering _THE MECHATRONICS HANDBOOK, Second Edition_. The girl, still clad in her lab attire, was lazily chewing on one last pocky that's been left in a package they all shared earlier on. She casted a glance towards her left where the mass of jumbled hair suggested the presence of their last companion, a very tired and under-rested one Tanaka, Sachiko, first year student of pharmaceutics, a subject indubitably taxing and often resulting in sleepless nights. This particular friend of Lotte's seemed to be a poster child for a tired cliche of Japanese overworking themselves to their premature deaths, and seemed to be proud of it. Currently however, upon being inquired whether she also would happily let herself being eaten out by that particular pop culture's anti-hero, she politely declined the answer, prompting Michiru to a prolonged rant about unnecessary prudishness on her part, immediately incurring a heated discussion regarding recent developments regarding sexuality in the modern psyche versus the ways traditional values were still used in Japanese society to police female sexuality, in which all of the remaining three girls took eager part.

It was well beyond the deadline for each one's classes and a short discussion led them to the rebellious decision concerning skipping them altogether in favour of heading towards Yoyogi, to spend some lazy afternoon at Lotte's place. Sachiko excused herself however, intent on hammering as much knowledge as she could muster in the library nearby. Giving her an apreciating nods, the remaining three hurried towards the metro station. They continued discussing various aspects of previously started topic all the way to her home, not stopping well until the host served them tea on the rooftop. Late afternoon's sunlight bathed the whole terrace in kind of orange gold and a pleasant breeze ruffled their hair as they sat comfortably on the sofas, warm feeling quickly spreading through each one of them. It was placid, something entirely alien to Lotte, who always associated city living with stress and chaos. Sipping the hot beverage, the girl gave a happy hum. It was sweet and spicy, perhaps the best combination for a tea that could be thought of. The girls were sprawled on two sofas facing each other. It took them some time to get them out of the utility shed but it beat sitting inside definitely.

„Those could be the last days of the nice weather, you know" mused Misaki, lazily leafing through some long forgotten volume on Impressionism, something which Lotte was never that much fond of and that was left forgotten in one of the sofa's crevices. This wasn't the type of a statement that warranted any kind of input from anybody so they just let it drop, too tired to even continue with the dissection of societal attitudes towards sex in modern Japan. Michiru was sitting cross legged beside Lotte, who hung upside down the sofa, her hair sprawled on the ground, a slight dizziness starting to form in her head. Berg was lying wedged between them, the idle atmosphere causing her to doze off immediately.

_I would very much like for __her life to always be this peaceful._

„Is this a canvas painting?" Michiru has been rummaging through the utility shed for some time now. Finding a huge object under some dirty sheets, it was only natural for her curious nature to simply unveil the mystery. „Yep", Lotte grimaced a bit, „It's a copy though. Rothko looks nice on the walls".

„Not much anywhere else, really" Misaki remarked, never being the one to appreciate modern art. Michiru laughed at Lotte's grunt of disaproval and draped the cover around the half-finished painting. It would later grace the seemingly endless walls all around the building, the lengthy parade of depressing, largely monochromatic pieces lending some eerie charm to the whole place.

„And the sculptures around the house, you made those too?" Misaki asked, standing up and going to the stereo. After a while mellow, smoky tunes could be heard from the studio. Picking up the small figurine of something akin to the horse made from plaster she pointed at it, drawing Lotte's attention to the place she was standing.

„Only the smaller ones. I'm ashamed how ridiculous they look right now. But it's relaxing to shape them, you know? I hope I will be able to get the gist of sculpting techniques and make some really cool stuff eventually, the way Michiru does" Lotte sighed, pleasant memories of her friend's work suddenly making her feel more motivated to pick up her work where she left it. Harder materials would be a drag considering her worsened condition, but clay or plaster should do just fine for a time being.

As long as she had fingers, that is.

A pained grimace crept on her face and she had to reassure herself she still had those few months before everything started. Plenty of time to teach herself sculpting more realistically, instead of those fleshy, bulbous creations that littered lower grounds of her building.

„Yep, I'm sure that's doable" agreed Michiru, coming to stand next to her. „Be sure to work systematically though, _you're often neglecting things out of laziness and that won't do_".

She didn't have the slightest idea how true her words were.

* * *

><p>It was well after 10 pm when Lotte walked her friends to their cab. Them commuting alone made her uneasy in light of recent events and since neither Michiru nor Misaki would have her walk them to their respective homes, they decided to call for the cab and get this done with. Fourth <em>was <em>somewhat gentler than the rest of succeeding wards, but it was still a far cry from First through Third, the ones in which almost no ghoul attacks ever happened and in which, thankfully, every single of her friends lived. It was a godsend, considering her creeping weakness she wouldn't be able to protect them as much as she felt they would need. And that was a goddamn shame. _It also made her want to hunt something tonight_. Or at least eat something very meaty and sufficiently bloody.

_Steaks would do._

Part of living in a city so diverse as Tokyo was the ever tempting possibility of getting almost everything and on every hour at that, from sunset to sunrise, without reprieve. Being a young lady in a dire need of bloody sustenance, getting an array of big and fat slabs of beef did not present much of a problem. The only drawback would have been the distance. Rooftop hopping would only get her as far and putting unnecessary strain on her body, unless in a critical situation, was most undesirable. Walking back home on foot was, therefore, a must.

Expertly navigating the winding streets leading to her place (this wasn't the first time steaks haunted her on this ungodly hour), Lotte let her mind wander, her boots tapping on the ground as she put even, broad strides to the ground. It was getting late, her normal time for studying quickly passing by. It also has gotten decidedly colder earlier on, and as she ushered her friends to the cab, Lotte had to put her winter attire once again, bobble beanie included.

The streets had gotten more empty and narrower. She was entering the part of Yoyogi that had decidedly less glamourous appeal. Incidents of human crime happened here sometimes and it was always prudent to remain vigilant around here. Some street lamps were not functioning properly, the row of lights lining the now totally deserted streets punctuated by darker dots. Lotte wouldn't be scared of humans – even in her malady snapping a neck would be no more difficult than breaking a pocky stick in two. _Ghouls were entirely different thing._

It happened in a small yard between decrepit building which used to be a residential block in the past. Lotte liked to walk there sometimes with Berg. It was always calm around there, the signs put by the local municipality warning about impending demolition dotting the walls around her. Not many people had a reason to go there and until the ground would be reclaimed and maybe a new school erected, not many would ever come. It turned out, however, that _somebody was there_. Lotte stopped dead in her tracks, the scent she had a vague remembrance of causing her to sniff the air greedily. It smelled like _a very nutritious food. _Precisely the food she's always been too big of a pussy to pursue.

„Who would've thought I will get a broad _here _of all the places".

Such words were never a sign of anything good. Attuning her vision and searching for the possible attacker, Lotte's eyes fall on the silhouette balancing on the steely bar protruding from one wall. He wasn't necessarily trying to hide himself from her, it seemed.

„You confident in having _anything_ here, little boy?". She knew she shouldn't have taunted him. After all she never amassed that much practice regarding fighting a ghoul. But she was quite young and possibly very foolish, and overall lack of proficiency never deterred her before.

Before she started decomposing, that is.

No time to spare, it seemed, was left, as the ghoul pounced on her, his body mass easily overpowering hers. Landing on a ground with a dull thud, the grocery bags she gripped up until this point scattered around them.

„I will eat you piece by piece" the man, whose face was obscured by malfunctioning street lights, drawled, gripping her hands and twisting her wrists painfully. „I will start from your arms, then your legs, so you'll be fully aware when I start pulling your entrail-".

He never got to relaying his feast to her in full. A powerful kick send him reeling behind. It was a nightmarish pressure to withstand in her shape but if she didn't want to end up as a source of meat and organs to be harvested, Lotte had to act. And quickly so, time was a foe here. Hastily getting on her feet and shedding her parka for better agility, Lotte managed to nimbly evade his kagune he sent in her direction so fast, she barely managed to register it. A rinkaku user, no doubt, the one excelling in brute strength. It had to be dealt with quickly, preferably in a close combat. But how do you approach somebody who is capable of dealing you a barrage of strikes so strong, they have you wheezing while trying to catch your breath?. A rinkaku user had to be somehow tired for the force of his attack to lessen. Not wanting to waste her precious strength, it was up to Lotte's agility to try and wear this particular attacker down.

_And good luck with that_.

He got to her faster than she managed to jump on the roof. Seeing his eyes maddened by hunger, the all black sclera dotted with vivid red a testament to its beastly nature, made Lotte serious. Bracing herself for the impact of his strike, her hands shooting in his direction with rapid swiftness, the girl managed to grip his neck. „And we're home, finally" she panted, her eyes fixed on his crazed ones, the sweat trickling on her temples, the tips of her fingers white from the exertion. The ghoul's skin was practically impenetrable. Trying to tear it would be a foolishness, however she wasn't entirely helpless in this situation. There was a reason Leonard had her carrying around the special little syringe hidden in the back pocket of her jeans all the time. Now was the time to use it. Delivering a sharp to the side of his neck and making it as forceful as she could muster, she took her other hand and thrust the needle straight into his membrane. A scream that followed could alarm half of the neighbourhood, if only there were any people living nearby. As it was, there was no one to witness as the male ghoul swayed on his legs, his momentary lose of balance leaving a wide opening to end things then and there.

_To hell with that._

It was a testament to her acquired skills that she managed to pry his carotid artery open with relative ease, now that his skin was akin to human's. Suppressing the urge to latch into it and suck him dry, Lotte dug her nails deeper, eliciting a pained shriek on the ghoul's side. The empty syringe that she managed to pierce his membrane with laid empty on the ground, a single drop of blood on its pointy end. Hearing his pained howling was immensely satisfying, she had to admit against her best wishes. It made her warm and fuzzy inside, all this suffering that was undeniably well justified. Their eyes met, her amused albeit a bit unfocused one with one that was in a frenzy of pain. He had to be quite young, she thought. All the more surprising considering his relative battle experience. Pity that he had to meet one higher up in the food chain.

His kagune now a bloody mess, it dangled limply on both his sides, no longer dangerous or life threatening, or so she thought. Feeling a surge of euphoria, Lotte braced herself for final strike. Before she was able to deliver it however, she was struck so powerfully in her head, she had to dug her heels deep into the ground in order not to collapse under the sheer force of it. Clutching her temples and spitting blood, she lost her grip on man's neck. _What the fuck?_ It was as if his impending demise stirred something in the man, for he put up a fierce fight not to end shredded to pieces. Taking advantage of Lotte's losing her momentum, he swung his kagune at her in hopes of swiftly beheading her and perhaps retiring to safety, to lick his wounds before any further damage could be rendered.

_Perhaps he would have __even s__tood some chance_, she thought. _If she was a human, that is_. Hitting her skin with a sickening sound, all it managed to do was to scratch the fine skin under her collarbone as she gripped it with both her palms. It hurt like hell however. Crying out in pain, her body feeling as if she was to disintegrate there and then from the sheer pressure needed to keep the wildly swinging kagune in one place, she made one last effort and pulled his body in both sides with inhuman strength, the claws that were burried in a ghoul's flesh promptly painted red. A splash of blood followed, displaced organs gracing the dirty ground. Moving very fast and happy to at least stay somewhat agile, Lotte managed to hop back few paces, enough not to be showered with the liquid red that pooled quickly around the falling corpse.

The body, severed more or less neatly into two parts, fell to the ground with a thud, followed promptly with a sickening squelch of flesh mangled with broken bones. _It was disgusting_ Lotte thought, prodding it with the tip of her shoe, her mind, though numbed with pain, already wandering to the things she had to do next. Bothering with cleaning up wouldn't make sense. In a city infested by ghouls the context was all too obvious. No reason to make her hands dirtier than they already were. Breathing heavily and hurting badly, Lotte swayed to where the dead-end street was blocked with wired net fence, tightly securing her wound with her scarf and picking her jacket on the way.

At first she hadn't wanted for this to turn out the way it has. The plans for the evening involved two huge rib-eye steaks that still laid on the pavement, their vivid red colour bleeding through the transparent plastic bag, and a _feast_ of certainly different kind. She made a continued, conscious effort to omit the prescribed ways and stick firmly to _normal_ food, out of ethical reasons maybe?. It wasn't time _yet_ she thought, and getting by at least the end of February, maybe even March, without resorting to more nutrient-dense food certainly looked feasible. That is, it looked feasible until she had to make her condition accelerate in such surprising fashion. Who was she kidding anyway, the reason she never hunted for ghouls was because she was simply a slob. Once a slob, always a slob, no matter who she was supposed to hunt. It was perhaps pathetic, but dancing with ghouls required definitely more sweat than, say, an average human whose necks snapped like pocky sticks _after you licked them dry_.

But, it would seem, she simply wasn't meant for a life that was pastoral, unruffled by any violent incidents. It had to have happened at some point. As it was, it happened on her own turf, too near Yoyogi residential area for any comfort. The usual culprit beside general laziness, as she became accustomed to, was her gargantuan appetite. _Perhaps the better te__rm__ would be __a __ravenous greed_ she thought bitterly, walking to the crumpled plastic bags that littered the ground where the unwanted skirmish took place, intent to make at least some use of her purchase. _I shelled so much for this shit, it would be a waste_.

Picking up the sad remnants of her shopping bags and wincing from pain that radiated from her strained arms, she gave the crime scene a good once-over. The body looked terrible, barely recognizable of its human shape. Or, rather, a _ghoulish_ one. There was no one at close vicinity at the time of this one happening, no one to witness what she has done neither before nor afterwards. Her senses, attuned to everything outside her to the point it _hurt, _alerted her to nothing. Nothing save a little yellowish lizard, scurrying through the small patch of grass that grown just to the left of the corpse's leg.

Nothing to be mindful of.

It was relatively easy to exit the stifling atmosphere of this empty dead end of the street, just jump the fence and jog for a few meters through another grassy patch, all he way ignoring the pain that bloomed all across her body magnificently, then cross the bridge and _blend in_.

That was something she was gradually becoming good at.

* * *

><p>It was half past eleven when he made it to the decrepit industrial building that housed his apartment in. It was later than initially planned, but such was the case with Itori – always thinking up the excuses to keep <em>her friends<em> around a bit longer. No sign of his intended prey either, even though usually this was the time previous _incidents_ involving this one happened. That person was scrupulous to the point of priggishness, which he had to admire being a perfectionist himself. And yet there was no one nearby, that was for sure. What was inconvenient however was that his neighbour wasn't around either.

Uta usually was able to spare a glance at her, working in her glassy studio on top of the rooftop precisely on this hour, on those rare occasions he actually bothered to look out of the window opposite hers and let his eye wander mindlessly. She would lean over her desk, her hair falling on one arm, and an outline of small fragment of a tattoo reaching her neck could be made from the distance where he stood by the window. Those occasions were few and far between, her life of a normal student hardly ever meriting his _interest _and he mused to himself in a sudden feat of benevolence that _it was perhaps better if __it__ stayed that way_. During the last months of their unwanted closeness she has never done anything that made his interests _picque _anyway. Maybe besides the times when she partied a tad bit too hard and made an idiot of herself, dancing to the same tunes he found he also listened in his studio to, or entertaining her guests with heated tirades on various subjects, fragments of which he was able to overhear while standing by the window and drinking coffee. He liked to observe her animated face then, the emotions flowing freely through her and visible the second they were felt. She looked _fun _to talk to but it would be a stretch to say he was in dire need of amusements lately. He had plenty of those, and what he wanted to do when he reached his apartment was to kick back and relax, maybe meditate quietly while watching the city from the windows high above the streets. Besides, he preferred the window on different end of the building for those. He'd rather not to be noticed and that meant not revealing his presence to this particular young lady.

_It would save both of them potential troubles regarding cohabitation in so close a distance_.

As it happened, luck wasn't on his side tonight, apparently.

He wasn't actually sure what gave her up, for she put her act nearly perfectly. And yet it was perhaps the scent of her perfume, which she sprinkled herself liberally with at the morning and still hasn't showered it off in that late of an hour, to mask the pungent smell of her feverish illness. Or maybe her walk, cautious and purposefully muffled, a well trained tread of someone who seemed to know how to _stalk_ anyone. Yet it was to no avail. Ghoul senses were sharp, sharper than that of the ordinary human. Ordinary humans wouldn't be able to recognize her illness just by the whiff of an air that came with the last blows of summer's warm air, when she stood across from him on the subway.

Ordinary humans, however, weren't supposed to hear her creeping at them from behind either, that much he was sure.

Either way, as he stood with the key halfway turned in the lock, the light that came from all the porch lights obscuring his face, the scrunching sound of boots on the pebbles became more noticeable with each deliberate step she took.

It was the time, perhaps, to greet his neighbour properly.

* * *

><p>Her heart started beating a tad bit too fast for her liking the second her senses picked up the anomaly in her surroundings. Faster than a thought, a shiver formed itself quickly on her skin, alerting her to a presence that simply wasn't supposed to be there. The bags landed on the ground with a silent thud. Her hands shooting into her pockets, she tried to put on her gloves so the stranger wouldn't see the blood on them. It was foolish of her to even walk with her fingers bloody as they were, and some of the liquid most probably lent its colour to the plastic bags she held in both hands. It was as if a life of almost ordinary student clouded her sense of preservation, the consciousness she was <em>supposed<em> to exhibit with each risky action that had to be taken just an empty word now.

_As if she became dull_.

Resuming her walk and hoping she wasn't visible from the distance just yet, she opted for a careful tread. After all she didn't know whether the figure - the outline of whom she was able to discern against the backdrop of the light that it was bathed in – was a neutral or a foe. Or perhaps another ghoul that was to be dispatched.

That last thought chilled her to the bones. She established _an identity_ here – rooted herself to this ground metaphorically, even if the tiniest bit. The eventual fight and subsequent _murder _would have surely alerted adequate forces to this place, and the thought of going into hiding _once again_ while waiting for help from _them_ was nerve-racking to the point of physical hurt. Which was why she opted for the movement that, while discreet and deliberate, sent a message of agreeable kind. At least that was its desired effect.

As she crept closer, the outline of the person who stood there, seemingly halfway into the action of unbolting sturdy looking locks that prevented the entrance to the building, grew more discernible. It was most probably a man, from his posture roughly into his twenties, clothed as heavily as her. Nothing more could be said at this point. Deciding to woman-up and face all eventual challenges implicit with the situation at hand, Lotte braced herself and went straight into the courtyard, flooded with lights coming from the lamps Leonard had installed on the walls all those month ago. She's never been more grateful for them than now.

_If she was supposed to eat those steaks an__y__time soon, better have this solved already._

* * *

><p>It wasn't long before she appeared in a circle of light the lamps on her building provided. First came her one spindly calf, her feet clad in heavy military boots, then a thigh showed up, a bit on the thick side, and then the rest followed – covered in a heavy winter parka all the way up to the face, most of which was hidden under her scarf anyway. Only her eyes, alerted but mostly calmly assessing her immediate surroundings, were visible under her wintry bobble hat. A slight limp was visible in her walk, as if she tripped badly.<p>

_ She was a meal packed a bit too tightly_ was the thing he thought at first, and, after some curious deliberation, discarded this particular train of thought. Besides, somehow she wasn't appetizing to him at all. Perhaps it was the intuitive knowledge of the malady that ceaselessly kept consuming her, or maybe the fact that over the years he became _more picky_.Whatever it has been, Uta decided that introducing himself in a neutral, casual way – the way _normal people did it_ – certainly wouldn't hurt.

As it seemed, however, his unwanted companion on that chilly evening of December wasn't in companionable mood herself. Acting as if she has noticed him just now, she gave him a polite nod and standard „good evening" in a slightly botched Japanese - her voice a bit raspy, as if unsure of its ability to convey anything - and simply turned around, neither expecting him to introduce himself nor clearly wanting to do so herself.

With a greeting partially frozen on his lips, he stared at her with one raised eyebrow shooting above his glasses and various jumbled thoughts about general rules of conduct for modern girls speeding through his brain. Pondering mimicking her peculiar indifference and turning around with minimal shrug of his shoulders, he was promptly stopped in his tracks, his one feet already in soothing darkness of his empty premises but head shooting involuntarily _back_.

_He was sure he smelled __some other's __blood on her._

Turning around just a little bit, he observed his neighbour busying herself with putting away her grocery bags, fumbling in her bag for the keys and _taking her gloves off her bloodied fingers,_ in a way no ordinary human would be able to notice. It took her very little time to unbolt all of her locks mirroring his own, put her gloves back and pick her bags. She was intent on getting inside as fast as possible. _Was she afraid of him_? That would be hilarious. Just as he thought he got an innocent, sickly girl for a neighbour he never asked for, _he had to encounter a murderer._ And not a typical one. It was a scent of _ghoul's_ blood - not the one that eluded him tonight however - that made him sniff the air around the courtyard deliberately. It made his eyes widen, a dangerous aura surrounding him almost instantly as it was prone to happen whenever he found himself in need of taking some _serious _steps. And also it was probably mistake to do so, as he quickly learned, for the girl stopped dead in her tracks, as if reading the signs quite correctly.

It was as if a cold current ran through her body, and time remained frozen between them as her head began to move, her now gloved hands gripping the grocery bags firmly. Uta watched her suddenly stiff back with curiosity. _Her fingers were also tattooed _ - Uta remembered - A_ tiny centipedes on both pinkies, kinda cute._ She emitted a strange aura, a distinct remnant of something very strong that was quite long gone in it. There would perhaps be no use of trying to assuage this situation if she proves to be hostile, Uta thought, resigned to whatever may happen next but also suddenly thrilled... His benevolence was already stretched to a dangerous point as it was. _Perhaps he'd be having to move back to his studio sooner than he wanted to._

* * *

><p><em> N<em>_othing went as planned._ From the pathetic Japanese she used to greet the person that stood across the courtyard, to the blurry vision of him she got when she decided to skip the need to assess his visage altogether, that also made her drowsy as hell, Lotte's discomfort soared to all new heights. Scrambling to flee to the safety of her own quarters, she flat out forwent common sense when opting for taking her gloves off in order to easily operate the keys. It was laughable to the point of absurd. This wasn't how she behaved usually, this wasn't how she was supposed to behave _on any condition_, period. In other words, if she gets killed tonight no one back home would be able to laugh at all the stories of _botched sheddings _that happened because of the wretched fever. Small, hectic red dots bloomed on her pallid features, creased now in a frenzy of panicked thinking.

Perhaps he hasn't seen them, those bloody fingers of hers. Perhaps it was too dark for this or maybe he was already at his own place. Not daring to turn her head around, Lotte's jumbled thoughts focused on getting inside as fast as possible, only caring for putting up the plan of action once she was safely bundled _behind those second doors._

_ That was when she heard it_.

Its familiarity initially had her thinking it was her instead of him doing this, but tonight there was no room for more stupid mistakes on her part. Barely audible for human senses, Lotte was sure she heard a distinct sound of someone _inhaling something_. She happened to know what results would that particular kind of sniffing yield. Following with the sound, a crushing aura belittling that of the _previous one_ hit her. As her luck would have it, she had someone _quite dangerous_ as a neighbour, as unwanted as he has been. But, a human wasn't supposed to feel this. Perhaps letting slip its dangerous implications would assure the person standing behind her that she was merely a sickly girl, the blood on her fingers merely the result of ordinary tripping incident or something. Or maybe not. Perhaps it would only serve as to excite him more with the prospect of slaying her. Meeting this particular sign with her one would result in comical results, as the sickness certainly has taken its toll, its true extent only known now, when confronted with something clearly _at their prime _and possibly not friendly at all_._

Calmness finally chased the chaos away however, and sober thoughts took its place, as there was no reason for her to panic unless the stranger's motives would be brought to the light. Acting hostile simply wouldn't do either, due to the painful lack of resources on her side.

_Let's hope he isn't into carnage that much as initially seem__ed_.

* * *

><p><em>Should there be any ways of omitting the hard way, he would surely choose them, <em>_if only for not being in the mood tonight_.

Uta's attention was fixed on the girl, his initial outburst dying down, rational thoughts taking its place. After all, killing a ghoul hadn't warranted a bloody retaliation in itself, however empty this sentence sounded to him most of the time. Whatever her reasons were, they didn't necessarily merit any action on his part. Just as he decided to let it drop and instead watch her quietly for a time being before taking any steps, she made a full turn, the words on her mouth well rounded and betraying nary an emotion, a casual and enquiring tone to them. „Excuse me, do you need somethin-"

The sentence was cut off abruptly, her voice, initially calm and quite firm, innocent even, ended with decidedly girlish yelp. _That was __an __interesting development._ As the girl finally took him in, a deep red bloomed on her features, the ones not shrouded in all the accessories winter made necessary at least. Forgoing all attempts of cohesive communication the girl just blurted out something about _tripping and making her all bloody mess and hurting like hell and being sorry if she scared him_ and other things like that, followed promptly by a hasty bow and speedy retreat into her own building, not to be seen tonight again, that much was sure.

„Now that was strange" he whispered to himself, to his own surprise more amused than anything else, as he finally made his way to the apartment in the attic. It would seem there won't be any shortage of interesting things to please him around here.

* * *

><p>She was, admittedly, quite scared. As she ran to her own quarters with the speed she usually wasn't able to muster from her weary legs nowadays, thoughts of possible fight flew through her head. Should she avoid that previous one, perhaps she could stand a chance. Now however, with her strength furthermore impaired and the process of <em>changing<em> most likely forcefully accelerated _she didn't stand a chance._ That gave her a pause.

It's been gradual, granted. Still, only now has the chance arisen to think this through, no avoiding it anymore. _She became weak_. And as she will change undoubtedly in coming weeks, her weakness will soar to new places. What next? Will she start fearing humans, now that this particular ghoul has sent her scrambling in pieces? Seizing the door-handle, she pushed it forcefully, locking the doors immediately after she got inside. Berg came to her side, alarmed by her wheezing, and was standing not far from her, sniffing the abandoned steaks with interest. The blood began to seep through and she didn't have any problems with pulling the plastic apart and downing one of them in few gulps. Lotte watched her with sort of detachment, her own need of nutrition suddenly forgotten. It was more out of mechanical habit than real adherence to prescribed ways when she took the remaining chunk of meat that Berg hasn't made use of yet, and just ate it on the spot, bloody red soaking her chin and giving her some resemblance of comfort as cool liquid slid down her throat. Not bothering to take off any of the clothing besides her jacket, Lotte went straight to her bedroom, lunging herself on the bed, boots still on her feet. Red liquid kept seeping from underneath her scarf, soaking it slowly. She was feverish, the injury on her neck hurt like hell and all she could think about was how she was supposed to defend herself from an SSS-class ghoul that happened to live just opposite hers _without the change being complete._

Because he was ghoul, that much was clear. How she didn't read him correctly all those times in the subway, she didn't know. Perhaps she was too attracted to him to think straight, handsome men has always been her weakness, _one that cost her pretty much up to this point._ Or perhaps she was so _sick, _reading one's signatures didn't come to her as easily as previously unless they hit her with the force of ton of bricks. Never in her life was she so overwhelmed by someone's sheer force signature, not even her Maker made her so weak in the knees. Should some of her previous strength remained, she would be ecstatic to meet _a match. _As it was, she could only meet her own end in these tattooed hands of his.

Somewhere in her studio, the outdated stereo she bought on a flea market a while ago kicked into a life on its own, following her setting it on that particular hour, to play music while she studied. The wind that blew gently that night took the sounds all the way through the roof and down to her bedroom, through the windows she never needed to close before. Her favourite seductive pieces sounding eerily strange in this new situation, they found no eager listener in that hour. And as she laid there, blood still pooling in the corner of her lips and some of the liquid smeared on her cheeks, _she felt like crying_. Only then the extent of her abandon hit her with its real force. There was a reason why she was supposed to eat something as nutritionally-rich as ghoul's meat and blood were. It was to gain strength so that she could eat more. And then some. All the way for the _change_ not to end in ultimate demise.

Such as hers was beginning to creep upon her.

Stretching her arm, her hands shaking, Lotte grabbed her cell phone. It was high time to notify the higher ups about the extent to which she failed and brought a shame on herself for years to come.

* * *

><p>AN The few incoming chapters will have a trigger warning for body horror, of _Thanatomorphose_ scale, from which they borrow their titles. And as a little side note, I imagine that the music piece which timing couldn't be worse in this chapter could very well be Chrysta Bell's_ Swing with me_, the _all through the nig__h__t_ fragment eerily adequate in one way or another.


End file.
